


Charred Pancakes Are the Best Kind

by Sohotthateveryonedied



Series: Batfamily Bingo [4]
Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Adopted Children, Domestic Batfamily (DCU), Dysfunctional Family, Family Bonding, Family Fluff, Father's Day, Father-Daughter Relationship, Fatherhood, Fluff, Gen, Humor, Pancakes, cass is bruce's favorite i don't care what anyone says
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 12:21:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24849688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sohotthateveryonedied/pseuds/Sohotthateveryonedied
Summary: It’s Bruce’s first Father’s Day since his return. His first Father’s Day with Duke in his lifeandhis first since adopting Cass, both of which make it something extra special.
Relationships: Cassandra Cain & Bruce Wayne
Series: Batfamily Bingo [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1792990
Comments: 6
Kudos: 194





	Charred Pancakes Are the Best Kind

**Author's Note:**

> For the "Father's Day" prompt on my bingo card, requested by shieldmaiden19!
> 
> (This is sorta in pre-52, sorta not? Duke is here but it's also Bruce's first Father's Day with Cass after the adoption because in pre-52 Bruce died like right after adopting her and I always thought a Father's Day fic would be nice for them but I also like Duke and wanted to put him in so yeah. Best of both worlds, babes!)

Bruce wouldn’t say he has a thing for holidays. Oftentimes he’ll completely forget about them until the day has already passed, too preoccupied with whatever case or world crisis is on his plate at the moment. So he accepts that he’s just too old for big holiday celebrations and resigns himself to a peaceful life of cracking jaws and breaking laws.   
  
But Father’s Day? He makes an exception for Father’s Day.   
  
With the summer comes shiny mornings and pleasantly humid nights, putting Bruce in a round-the-clock good mood—something he was  _ sure _ was a myth invented by people without crippling depression. From the moment he opens his eyes, Bruce feels...at peace. For once in his long, exhausting life, he's content to enjoy today for what it is and nothing else.   
  
It’s been a difficult year all around, Bruce with his vacation through time and his family who were left picking up the pieces in his absence. Sometimes Bruce will see it in their eyes—the lingering grief that they just can’t shake even after his return. Memories of funerals and corpses and adjusting to the reality that their father was gone.   
  
Bruce is glad to be back. Not for himself, but so his family won’t have to live without him until (hopefully) _much_ farther in the future. At least another year. Maybe two.   
  
And now it’s Bruce’s first Father’s Day since his return. His first Father’s Day with Duke in his life  _ and  _ his first since adopting Cass, both of which make it something extra special.   
  
Bruce tightens the belt of his bathrobe and heads for the kitchen, the floor cold on his bare feet. He can already smell the rich aroma of coffee wafting in from the kitchen and mentally thanks our lord and savior Alfred Pennyworth for warming up the pot ahead of time. His exhaustion is a physical weight, dragging his eyelids downward and begging him to allow himself more than the measly four hours of sleep he’s coasting on.   
  
Every year Bruce asks Alfred what gift he wants for Father’s Day, and every year he is told the same thing: a steaming cup of Earl Grey and a night where the old man doesn’t have to sit up all night praying for his family to come home safe and sound. Bruce is almost _positive_ that Alfred only tells him that so he’ll stop asking, but it’s Father’s Day, so Bruce won’t argue. He always appreciates the mandatory night off anyway.   
  
It’s just early enough in the morning that none of the kids are awake yet, since Bruce and Alfred are the only ones who would ever deign to wake up before sunrise. And Tim half the time, but the other half sees him waking up past noon so that doesn’t count. That kid is a game of Russian roulette personified.    
  
Bruce does a mental head-count: Dick is in Bludhaven now, but he's coming by later for dinner and to give Bruce and Alfred their presents. Jason is...Jason, so Bruce will put him down as a solid maybe. Duke said he has plans to follow a lead after school before it gets dark out, so Bruce is prepared to not see a trace of him until dinnertime. Tim was up late last night with Titans business, so Bruce doesn’t know when the hell he can expect to see that kid. Regardless, Tim’s routine for Father’s Day consists of a thoughtful gift and a gesture like washing the Batmobile or a valiant attempt at cooking dinner without burning it, which rarely works, but at least he tries. Damian will be waking up for school soon and usually makes a point of wishing Bruce a happy Father’s Day and Skyping with Dick. And Cass…   
  
...Appears in the kitchen doorway like a phantom just as Bruce’s foot touches the threshold, making him jerk back in surprise. (No, he is _not_ getting soft in his old age. It's the exhaustion's fault, really.)   
  
“Good morning,” she says cheerily, waving a spatula at him. Bruce squints. Cass’ hair is brushed for once and she is already dressed for the day. Bruce can’t remember the last time he saw Cassie awake before noon.    
  
“Good morning,” he says slowly, but it sounds like a question. He sniffs the air. “Are you...cooking?”   
  
Cass nods and darts back into the kitchen. Bruce follows hesitantly. Smoke wafts up from a pan on the stove, which would be more concerning if Alfred wasn’t sitting on a stool by the counter, reading the newspaper without a care. Or maybe that’s the part that  _ should  _ be concerning.   
  
Alfred peers at Bruce over his newspaper, a playful glimmer in his eyes. “Good morning, Master Bruce. Happy Father’s Day.”   
  
“I’m going to assume you’re off duty for the day?”   
  
“Miss Cassandra was very adamant that she prepare breakfast entirely by herself. I didn’t lift a finger.” The faintest smile tickles the underside of Alfred’s mustache. “I think she's doing a marvelous job, don’t you?”   
  
Bruce looks at the pan on which Cass is currently flipping what  _ could  _ be a pancake. You know, if pancakes were supposed to resemble squiggly ovals and be completely black on both sides. “Looks great.”   
  
Cass carefully levers the pancake onto the large stack she’s already set up on the dining table. She pulls out a chair for Bruce, smiling. “Eat.”   
  
Even with the smoke stinging his eyes, Bruce’s heart floods with a sweet kind of warmth. Fine, so this is adorable beyond all reason. Sue him for loving his daughter. He sits and lets Cass fill his plate with pancakes, syrup, and Skittles for some reason. A bit of maple syrup dribbles off the side of the overflowing plate and pools on Alfred’s tablecloth. Bruce doesn’t try to stop her. Then, for the  _ pièce de résistance, _ Cass fills his favorite Batdad mug with hot coffee that smells exactly the way it should—no tampering whatsoever. Bruce could cry.    
  
Masking his fear, Bruce picks up a fork. He takes a bite and Cass bounces on her heels, eagerly waiting for the verdict. And Bruce won’t lie—the pancakes taste exactly as they look. Maybe worse. But Cassie looks so proud that Bruce forces it down and grins like it’s ambrosia.    
  
“These are delicious, Cassie. Thank you.”   
  
Cass smiles knowingly and shakes her head. “No, they aren’t.” To be fair, Bruce was a fool to think he could lie to Cass. He acknowledges that. But Cass doesn’t seem to care. “Thanks for pretending.”  
  
"Maybe next year we can make the pancakes together? I'm a terrible chef too, so we can cancel each other out."  
  
Cass' smile is blinding.  
  
That’s when—like the crescendo before a Shakespearean apotheosis—Bruce becomes acutely aware of feet stampeding down the staircase like an incoming avalanche. He can already feel the headache coming on.   
  
Tim is at the head of the pack, but he ends up skidding past the kitchen in his socks and crashing into something Bruce can’t see, but it sounds expensive. Stephanie and Duke shove each as they run to reach Bruce first, and Bruce isn’t even going to  _ ask  _ what Stephanie is doing in his house this early in the morning. Damian vaults over Duke’s shoulders like an eight-year-old Dick Grayson and rushes forward with a small wrapped gift in his hands. That's when Tim appears out of nowhere and tackles him to the ground.  
  
"Bruce! Happy—" There's a grunt as Steph is tackled by Tim.  
  
"Father, will you tell these idiots that _—damn it!"_  
  
"Happy Father's Day, Bruce! I—" Steph bites down on Duke's arm, making him yelp.  
  
_"Fuck off, Damian!"_  
  
_"You_ fuck off!"  
  
Everyone is clambering over one another, trying to present their gifts first and maiming each other in the process. And all over Alfred's recently-mopped floor. Bruce closes his eyes and drinks his coffee. This is fine. He's on a beach in the Bahamas.   
  
Suddenly, gentle arms wrap around his shoulders in a hug. Cass kisses his cheek and says, quietly despite the noise, “Happy Father’s Day. The first one.”   
  
And...that really is true, isn’t it? This is their first official Father’s Day together. They've hit the milestone, father and daughter, the knowledge of which fills Bruce with nothing but joy even if it means choking down botched pancakes every Father’s Day for the rest of his life. He can't wait. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Would you believe that it didn't even occur to me to do the Father's Day prompt on Father's Day until a few hours ago? I have idiot disease and it's TERMINAL.
> 
> [Feel free to mosey on down to my Tumblr!](http://sohotthateveryonedied.tumblr.com/)


End file.
